


The Lay of Alvis

by Palefire73



Series: Prisoners. The Chronicles of Loki and Erika [15]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Norse Gods - Fandom, Thor - Fandom, odin - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Odin cares about Thor, The Lay of Alvis, Thor misses Loki, Thor needs a mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11523012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: Thor is exhibiting worrying behaviour now that Loki is gone from Asgard and Odin realises he needs something to make him feel as if he is needed and that he belongs.Along comes a problem which might just be the ticket...





	The Lay of Alvis

**Author's Note:**

> Not so much a chronicle about Loki himself, but more of how his removal from The Nine is having negative effects back there even in his absence.

The man felt his knee begin to go numb where it rested on the cold marble floor and wondered if he had been forgotten, yet he did not dare raise his head to look at The All Father until he was given permission to do so. His eyes traced the patterns of cream and gold in the richly decorated floor as he waited for a response, hoping that he would be able to feel his legs when he was finally allowed to stand. He had come here with a message regarding Sif, Thor’s wife, and ever since he had entered the Throne Room and passed it on to Odin, he had been kneeling awaiting an answer.

 

The All Father stared off down the room, looking at but not quite seeing the giant pillars holding up the lofty vaulted ceiling. His mind worked as he tried to make sense of what he had been told, but as soon as ideas formed he dismissed them as impossible. Movement within the periphery of his limited vision caused him to refocus and he looked down at the man who had brought the news. Realising the robe-clad messenger had been down on his knee with his head bent for many long minutes, he cleared his throat and gestured with a gnarled hand.

 

“Stand, please.” He watched as the poor man struggled to his feet and then nodded respectfully at him whilst crossing his arm across his breast in the Asgardian fashion.

“I thank you for the message… is the Lady Sif in her Winter Apartments here at the Palace?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. The whole family are here… your granddaughter too…”

“Þrúðr?” Asked Odin, “She is here too?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Sif felt that Thor needed his family around him at this difficult time becau…”

“Difficult time?” Odin’s interruption was quiet, but he was tight-lipped and his eye narrowed angrily. The man quailed and bent his head.

“I apologise, Your Majesty. I have presumed to say too much.”

 

Odin forced himself to keep his temper and sighed. “You may go. Tell Sif I will pass the message on. Alvís, was it?”

“Yes, a Dwarf from Svartalfheimr. He has been seen a few times and constantly asks people of Þrúðr’s whereabouts. He is prowling around Bilskirnir, but is only seen after dusk and never once the dawn has broken. The Lady Sif has come to stay here because his presence has been upsetting her daughter and they expect him to come back this evening.”  
“No… well, he is a Dwarf and he cannot be out in our Sun. Thank you. You may go.”

 

The messenger bowed and drew his dark winter cloak around him “Thank you Sire…” he said, and turned to walk back down the long room, diminishing in Odin’s view as he watched him and thought about this message. What the messenger had said had been a little close to the bone: _at this difficult time_.

 

A difficult time indeed.

 

It would have been easier said than done to hide Thor’s recent behaviour from anyone. Well known for being a gregarious and larger-than-life God, the Prince of Asgard was a changed man since he had returned from his prolonged incarceration in Midgard. Although the naturally occurring magic of Asgard had restored him to his former physical glory within a short time, the _Morgul_ injury he had sustained whilst fighting with Loki and the weakening effects of having been on Midgard for such a long time seemed to be lingering with him mentally. It took effort for him to listen to people; often his eyes would have a far-off look in them and he would miss half of what was said in meetings or in council. The dazzling smile that had melted a million Asgardian hearts was rarely on show and Odin could not recall the last time he had heard his son laugh.

 

Odin rose from his throne and motioned to one of the messengers standing to the side of the giant platform upon which the throne sat.

“You there, bring Thor to my rooms. I will be there to receive him in half an hour and it is not an invitation… it is a summons.” He descended the steps from the throne and made his way to his private exit, determined to give Thor something valiant to do to improve his mood.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Despite the fact that winter was well and truly upon them, the late afternoon bright azure sky was the perfect background to the skeletal branches of the trees which bordered the shore of the huge lake situated behind the Palace of Asgard. The debris of dried brown leaves and small twigs that had been wrenched from their branches during seasonal storms crunched under the strong leather boots worn by Thor, the God of Thunder, Son of Odin and Prince of Asgard. He strode along the path which was used by small woodland animals in the warmer months and ducked under low boughs as he passed, yet his gait was heavy. He had made this journey so often over the last few weeks that he could have done it now with his eyes blindfolded and still have walked true to the way. Deep in his heart he knew it was not healthy to do this, yet he felt compelled to come here, to a place that was a dead end in more than one sense of the word. A big part of his life had died here on that day, and not for the first time. But this time it had been irreversible; it had been forever.

 

Thor was dressed in rather subdued colours; he had no need of his Royal Dress today, indeed he had very little need for it at all lately and today he had favoured autumnal colours of rich browns and deep blues in the rather common-looking clothes he had decided to wear. Although his father had retaken Asgard and was ruling as King again, and Tyr had come home and there was relative peace in the Nine, Thor could only see the emptiness whenever he frequented the official parts of the Palace. Only a few scant years ago, his Father and adoptive Mother, Frigga, had ruled over the golden realm of the Gods and the Princes Thor and Loki had gone about their daily royal lives almost always in each other’s company, whether as friends or as occasional enemies. For they had not always seen eye-to-eye of course; very often they had come to bitter blows over disagreements, but they had always been there for each other, along with their noble friends. But now there was only Odin with no Queen and his brother Tyr was almost a stranger having been absent on his adventures for so long. His friends were occupied on a daily basis with their duties in their home realms and he found that he had no appetite to go about his own any longer. Thor was lonely.

 

He had a wife and a daughter of course, and he did love them and he did spend time at home in Bilskirnir with them, trying to be happy around them as much as he could. He had even tried going to his mistress Jarnsaxa and their sons Móði and Magni when things had settled down a bit, but his desire to be with the giantess and their children was simply not the same as it had been before he had spent all that time as a prisoner on Midgard and after a few times of watching him arrive only to sit gloomily near her hearth, Jarnsaxa told him to go away and not come back until he had got his head straight. Sif, on the other hand, made him feel smothered with her attempts to sympathise; she would prepare his favourite foods and stayed close by his side when he was home, but he found he could not cope with her heavy-handed love and started to go out for walks on his own on an ever increasing basis, which was why he had fallen into the habit of coming here nearly every day.

 

He was, of course, at the site of the prison entrance. The rugged cliff face he stood before was where he had last seen Loki as he had been transported inside the alternate reality created to keep him locked up and away from mischief for the rest of his days. The Trickster had been unconscious and had been carried in on a Soul Forge, only to be brought back to consciousness once the prison had been locked and secured. Thor had been given no choice but to stare at the pale face of the one he had once called Brother as he was borne past him through the portal, the long black lashes of his closed eyes resting on his sharp cheeks and the slim fingers interwoven on top of his chest. Loki’s appearance in the Soul Forge as he crossed from the known world into the alternate reality was so similar to how he would be on his bier in his final journey to the underworld that Thor had needed to physically turn away lest his tears betray his sadness to those around him. That memory returned, as it did every time he came here, and a pang of emptiness went through his heart. _Had he been right to ask that Loki be allowed to live on?_ He wondered. _Had he not, in fact, only created a situation for himself where he would come here and torture himself over his loss day after day for the foreseeable future?_ _Would it not simply have been kinder to allow Odin to send him to the gallows?_ Yet Thor doubted it would have been so simple. Loki was not destined to die in Asgard with no effect on the Gods and it was highly likely that the Great Cycle would have been preserved through some means: Loki would not have met his end at Odin’s whim, no matter how much The All Father desired it. As with every other time he had come here, the huge Thunder God placed his palm to the surface of the cliff where the portal had been and bowed his head, wishing with all his heart that it had never come to this.

 

“Your Highness.”

 

Thor closed his eyes and sighed. Could he have no peace? Yet he knew this behaviour was not healthy and he turned away to greet the messenger who was kneeling and awaiting his attention.

“Please, stand.” He said wearily, but managed a smile as the man looked at him, “What is it?”

“A message from the King, Sire. He requests… he _demands_ your presence. Immediately.” A look of apology accompanied his words; he knew just why Thor was here and it saddened him to see his Prince this way. He looked nothing like the Prince of Asgard in the commoner clothing and rather worn cloak he was wearing. His warrior braids looked like they had not been retied for days and his beard definitely needed a trim. He realised he was staring and reddened as Thor nodded his thanks and held his hand out towards the path.

“We had better make our way, then.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I will go there now. He needs to be stopped!”

 

Odin watched as Thor strode back across his office and hope blossomed in his heart; could it be that having a task such as this would ignite something in the boy and bring back the God he had once been? Odin could only sit back as his somewhat dishevelled looking son went to seek the Dwarf out and wait to see what came of this. He could have sent someone else to rid Thor’s halls of the pesky Dwarf, but he had felt that it should fall to Thor to carry it out. Alvís was under the impression that Þrúðr had been promised to him in return for supplying his superior weapons and his wisdom to Asgard and kept returning to ask of her whereabouts. Thor had no knowledge of this pledge and the fact that his only daughter had been promised out without his consent had instantly ignited his temper, along with the desire to ensure that it would not be honoured.

 

The thick Asgardian door of his office clanged shut as the God of Thunder left to save his daughter from an unhappy marriage and Odin signalled one of the Einherjar standing to attention just inside it; he wanted his son followed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bilskirnir was a massive building of over 540 rooms and well-worthy of a Prince of Asgard. Although Thor had rooms actually in the Palace and spent a lot of time there, he also owned this place where he resided a lot of the time with Sif and Þrúðr. The winter afternoon was getting dark already and as he approached the mighty slope leading up to the front of Bilskirnir, he found one of the guards who instantly came up to him.

“My Prince! Please, come quickly. It is the Dwarf… he is here again, asking for your daughter!” Thor followed the guard and they came to one of the large common rooms of Bilskirnir where there was a small figure sitting on a wooden bench swinging his legs. Thor drew his ragged travelling cloak about him and made his way over to find out who he was, but before he could speak, the Dwarf – for it was clearly he – jumped down and spread his arms wide as he grinned.

 

“Ah! About time! Now I can take Þrúðr home and we can be wed. Everyone keeps saying I cannot wait for the wedding night and I confess I do not mean to tarry any longer!”

Thor’s temper rocketed at this and he almost called for Mjölnir; however he kept as calm as he could – there was, perhaps, another way of stopping this problem and in a fashion that would not cause any repercussions from Svartalfheimr.

“What in The Nine are you?!” He exclaimed, “Why so pale around the nose? Do you sleep amongst the dead to look so?  You are some sort of Giant-spawn I think and certainly not fit to take the girl as a bride.”

The Dwarf bristled at these insults and he raised his chin with indignation, “I am Alvís of Svartalfheimr and I want a word with the weapons master about the promise I was made. I have travelled far and wide and I know much you do not. I am wise beyond words and I know a bargain when it is made!”

“Then I mean to break this bargain!” Declared Thor, taking up a hostile stance, “I know nothing of it and the only one who can promise a daughter is her own father!” He stalked out of the common room and through some doors which led out in to a moonlit courtyard, where he went to sit on a stone wall surrounding a central fountain. Alvís quickly followed him and took up a perch on a stone bench opposite him.

“And who are you to declare such a thing?” Sneered Alvís. Despite his diminutive size, he had an arrogance that surpassed many of a taller stature. “Look at the state of you! You are no hero… more like some son of a common whore! How many rings paid for your birth I wonder?”

“I am Vingthor, the Wanderer!” Bellowed Thor, his eyes crackling with electric fire as his anger grew, “I am the Lord of these halls and the Son of Sithgrani – none other than The All Father! And you will never get Þrúðr as your bride as long as I can stop it!”

 

Alvís quailed as he realised he was in the presence of Thor the Thunderer, but he was determined he should have his prize, “In that case, let our wills be pitted and I shall win her fair and square. I long for your snow-white maid and my knowledge will surely secure her!”

“I cannot stop your love if you should win such a battle,” Replied Thor and he gave the Dwarf and intense look, his blue eyes as deadly serious as they had ever been. He was determined now to defend Þrúðr’s honour and he was certainly never going to let this grim individual claim her as a wife. “Answer me this! You know everything of the doom of Men, so what is it they call the land that lies around us – every race that is?”

“Men call it ‘Earth’,” Said Alvís, “It is ‘Field’ to the Gods, ‘The Ways’ to the Vanir, ‘Evergreen’ to the Giants, ‘The Grower’ to the Elves and the most holy of Gods call it ‘The Moist’.”

 

“Then answer me this Alvís, since you know all of the doom of Men: What are the names for the highest skies they can see, where their highest ones reside?”

“’Heaven' Men call it, 'The Height' the gods, the Vanir 'The Weaver of Winds', Giants 'The Up-World,' Elves 'The Fair-Roof,' and The dwarfs 'The Dripping Hall.” A smug smile crossed the Dwarf’s face as he delivered his answer quickly and without error; he felt he was sure to win the girl’s hand with hardly any effort.

 

Thor, on the other hand, had different plans. He had quickly seen that Alvís was a vain individual and was incredibly proud of his abilities – both as a craftsman and as a scholar. He pretended to be very impressed at the answers the Svartalfheimian was giving him and took a long time between his questions, as if he was having trouble coming up with one difficult enough to stump him. Alvís played right into the canny God’s hands and became more and more arrogant with each answer he gave, eager for even more questions to prove his superiority. Many questions later, Thor came out with the last one as the glimmer of dawn showed above the roof of the building surrounding the courtyard. Stroking his beard thoughtfully, he shook his head in a manner which made Alvís believe he had defeated the Thunderer and his beady eyes were riveted on Thor as he anticipated one final and easily answered question; Þrúðr would be his!

 

“Long have I questioned you, and in all manner of subjects, but let me ask you this final one. This will be the reckoning.”

“Aye!” Grinned Alvís, “Let us have it asked!”

“Very well,” Said Thor, “Answer me this, Alvís, knower of all Men’s doom: What do they call ale that is quaffed by men in each and every world?” He sat back and crossed his muscular arms as the Dwarf played along with this guessing game, tapping his stubby finger on his thick lips as he pretended to think about his answer in a wise and knowledgeable fashion. He raised his black eyes and looked at Thor triumphantly, knowing his answer would win the comely daughter of the Thunder God.

“’Ale' amongst men and 'beer' to the Gods. In the world of the Vanir they call it 'The Foaming' and 'Bright Draught' is the name given by the giants. 'Mead' with dwellers in Helheimr,  and 'The Feast-Draught' with Suttung's sons."

“Well,” Said Thor and he shook his head as if mightily impressed by Alvís’ knowledge, “I have never known so much wisdom to be in the possession of one person and I confess I have found our matching of will to be of great entertainment. However…” he stood slowly and looked up to the sky just as the Asgardian sun’s rays began to spill over the roof and into the courtyard in which they sat, “Your desire to beat your adversary has caused your own doom. My treacherous wiles have outsmarted even you, Alvís, and now our Sun returns to my halls. The day has caught you, Dwarf!”

 

The victorious expression slipped from Alvís’ face like butter from a hot knife and he stared in the same direction as Thor. It was the last thing he ever did. Fatal to those who lived in the dark world of Svartalfheimr, the bright light of the Asgardian Sun turned him to stone and ended any thoughts of a successful return home with Thor’s daughter as his bride.

 

Thor sat heavily down on the wall of the fountain, but had no chance of a moment’s peace. Having heard that her father had come here to protect her honour and to save her from a life of misery in the dark underworld of the Dwarves, Þrúðr ran from one of the rooms surrounding the courtyard and squealed in happiness as she flung herself into her father’s arms to hug him. Thor almost burst with love as his daughter wept in his protective embrace and told him how much she adored him for what he had done for her and for the moment, at least, she went a long way to filling the gaping hole in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a poem in the Poetic Edda called "Alvíssmál" and it can be found here:
> 
> http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe12.htm
> 
> I have heavily Anglicised it in order to make it easier to read and I apologise if that upsets anyone who is heavily into the Nordic Lore, but I think you can appreciate that I needed it to read easily here to fit in with my style of writing. In addition I have only included a few of Thor's questions because the whole poem would have made this instalment about 5K words long by the time I wove them in and it's long enough as it is for a short one. Hope you liked it anyway :)
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Sorry it's been a while. I really wanted to publish this last week, but it blocked me for nearly a fortnight because of how long it could have become. I chose to keep it short, but it took me ten whole days of arguing with myself to make that decision!


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